A Pound of Feathers
by cristina rosales
Summary: "Broken love is the most dangerous love. It will slice you open with every touch." The students of the elite prep school, The Institute, know about broken hearts and bad romance. But as a new girl is thrown into the mix, their lives are thrown upside down. Sometimes a pound of feathers is heavier than a pound of bricks. [Clace, Sizzy, and Malec]
1. Fall

A/N: Hey guys! This might look simillar because this is just A Pound of Feathers done. It's going to have most of the same outcome as the other one, but this one will be better. I promise. Here's an extended summary.

"Broken love is the most dangerous love. It will slice you open with every touch." Isabelle is done with life. She hates the world, hates her parents, and especially hates any notion of love. Love did shatter her heart into a million pieces. The new school year means a new Isabelle. She promises herself that she will break the heart of all the boys that broke hers. And above all, she promises that she will never love. Sadly, fate has it's own course when she's assigned to a boy for a project. A boy that is so different than all of the other assholes she's fallen for. But this boy's heart has already been stolen, and Isabelle knows this won't end well... especially with the bet that hanging over her head.

"I absolutely love my best friend. So much. Maybe too much." Simon loves Clary. They've been friends for as long as he's been able to walk and talk and breathe. He knows it's stupid to love her, they would never work out. But since she's recently moved to New York City and is going to his school, he thinks he has a chance. Until Clary meets Jace, the ass who runs the school. Simon just knows that he'll break his best friends heart, but Clary won't listen. Simon is forced to watch his love fall head over heals for someone else, all while fending off the guilt of knowing his secret. A secret that could rip apart his whole world...

"You are not a hundred scattered pieces, blowing farther and farther away from each other." Clary is lost. Since she has moved from her small town of upstate New York to the bustling city, she doesn't know who to trust. Her mother is still on the meds from when her father left her, her best friend is acting strangely, and her brother is ignoring her completely. The only thing that is truly there for her is food. She indulges and binges constantly, and her health is taking the toll. The doctor suggests putting her on anxiety pills, but they don't get it. No one gets it, except Jace. As Jace begins to show Clary the wild side of New York, she can feel everything clicking into place. Until a huge accident crashes down upon her family, and Clary is pulled into the mess...

* * *

 **Part One:** Fall (in which a girl yearns for love)

or

 **Isabelle Sophia Lightwood:** A girl with stiletto heels that crush hearts, dresses that barely cover her ass, and a vulnerable, soft heart.

Isabelle stared into the mirror. Her eyes were puffy, her mascara was running, her once bright red lipstick was smudged and smeared, and her knuckles clutched the edge of the counter. Her heels lay abandoded in the doorway, tossed aside when she realized that her six inch boots can't save her now.

She dug into her makeup bag, rummaging around to find something, _anything_ , that would stop the dull pain. Not the one that softly throbbed in her head from the booze. But the one that pulsed from her heart.

Isabelle threw out cremes and powders onto the counter, and they grew into a steady pile. Under eye cremes, eye-shadow pallets, lip tints, and liquid liners were no good to stop pain. Not even Advil could cure her aches. The makeup could only cover the pain and scars in a coating of foundation. It could only mask the puffy eyes with a creme. It could only distract others' eyes from her red eyes with a bright pink lip.

The makeup that covered the bathroom counter couldn't fix the problem; it could only hide it. And Isabelle was tired of hiding.

She was tired of fighting, tired of searching, tired of pretending, tired of living, tired of drowning her fears in drugs and alcohol. She was tired of the sleepless nights and the disproving parents and the drunken dancing. She was done with the whispers that called her a slut, whore, bitch, hellion, gold-digger, and _so much worse_. She just wanted it to all stop. Stop living this stupid, endless life, and stop the judgmental hypocrites who think they're "so much better." She just wanted to scream.

But she couldn't scream because it would wake her parents and her "oh-so-perfect" brother. Instead, she picked up her $200 foundation and hurled it at the mirror. It harmlessly bounced off and landed with a thud onto the carpet. Not even the bottle cracked.

Even the mirror restricted her feelings. She clenched her fists and stalks off into her room, leaving the makeup on the counter.


	2. Fall: I

A/N: For prompts red for Four Elements challenge for Caesar's Palace and comrade for Caesar Palace prompts.

* * *

 **Part One: Fall**

 **–**

 **Isabelle**

Isabelle raised the cigarette to her lips. The white paper glowed faintly on the ends. The little warmth the yellow-orange glow provided was quickly sucked up by the surrounding air. Isabelle flicked the cigarette to the ground when she saw blonde, silky hair gliding toward her.

Camille Belcourt was everything Isabelle wasn't. Her light, silky hair was normally tamed and done in an elegant sweep. Her aura spoke of elegance and high society. Her school uniform was pressed to perfection and none of her skirts had a stain on it. Isabelle could already hear the smooth talk that was going to spill from her mouth.

"How are you doing, Camille?" Isabelle forced concern and a happiness into her voice. Everyone knew that in their community, pleasantries are used to keep friends and foes at bay. "How was France?"

"France was wonderful, Izzy. You should've come when I invited you. The weather was simple perfect in Paris." Camille twirled her hair on her finger, but her tone changed. "Seriously, Isabelle. Cut the crap."

Isabelle sighed and reached into her back pocket. She could've sworn she'd had some cigarettes in there. The stream of students that were flowing into the central courtyard was increasing steadily, and Isabelle just wanted them to go away. She just wanted to have it all to herself to think.

She pulled it out and fumbled for her lighter while trying to seem interested in Camille's rant about how the "five star chef in our hotel just couldn't make the New York Strip Steak correctly."

"Isabelle!" Camille snapped, and Isabelle almost dropped her lit cigarette. "How's Meliorn?"

Camille was smiling; she'd knew she'd hit a soft spot. Isabelle had recently broken up with Meliorn when she'd found out he'd been cheating on her. The gossip and rumors about who and how and where had been circling around for most of summer, and Isabelle was sick of it.

Isabelle flipped Camille off, "You know what happened , Camille, don't play innocent. Meliorn could rot in hell, and I wouldn't flinch a bit. That bastard wasted my time, I'm so ready to move on."

Camille let out a harsh, cruel laugh, "That's what they all say, Isabelle. They all say they're over and done and so not broken. As far as I can tell, no one leaves love unscathed."

Isabelle narrowed her eyes,"I left love unscathed. Plus, this is my year for revenge. I'm going to break every one of the boys' hearts. Just like they broke mine, and how they're going to break every girls'."

"Oh really? That's so noble of you, but do you really want to hold to that?" Camille lifted her eyebrow.

"You wanna bet, don't you? Hundred dollars I'll break five hearts of your choice."

"You're so on." Camille turned and walked off to bother another poor soul. Isabelle glance down at the cigarette that was slowly burning in her hands. She took a long, slow drag and gazed around the courtyard.

Standing in the middle was a mop of curly, bright, red hair looking around at the school in awe. She was obviously new. Her swiveling head and curious eyes plainly said that. But Isabelle was suspicious. _Where have I seen that hair?_ She narrowed her eyes and blew out a ring of smoke.

It drifted up and flew away in a haze as the bell rang, and the courtyard was abandoned in search of class.

* * *

 _Clunk, clip, clank._ Isabelle's shoes, designer high-heels, scraped the hallway's floors as she pattered off to class. The bell had already rang several times, warning students that in a few minutes they were going to be late, but Isabelle didn't care.

She let her mind drift to the paintings that decorated the halls, and the lockers that stood so proudly. Isabelle knew the layout of her school by heart, so she could find her way to R-106 with her eyes closed But apparently someone else couldn't.

A flash of red darted from a locker in the corner of Isabelle's eye. The red head from the courtyard was here? She had to bite back a laugh. The poor, poor thing. But Isabelle didn't feel any pity for her.

"Ummmm. Excuse me," Isabelle stopped and turned around. The red-head was behind her, and the girl's pleading, green eyes were wide and wet. "Do you know where R-106 is?"

Isabelle let out a sigh. She was stuck with the new girl in homeroom? Splendid. As much as she wanted to send the girl in he wrong direction, Isabelle felt a string tug at her heart. She should at least try to be nice. "I do. I'm going heading there right now. Just follow me."

Isabelle began to take long strides toward R-106, just to torture the short-legged red head. She felt a slight satisfaction as the girl had to jog to keep up. She felt a smile creeping up on her face, and Isabelle walked faster.

"What's your name?" The girl spoke while jogging.

"Isabelle," Isabelle curtly replied. If the girl was hurt by such a curt answer she hid it very well.

"Mine is Clary," the red-head quicken her pace.

"Clary?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "That's an odd name."

"Clary's short for Clarissa. And it's not an odd name, you know. It's an elegant one!" Clary burst. Isabelle stopped walking, interest prickled her mind. The girl had spunk even though she was half a foot shorter than Isabelle.

"Whatever," Isabelle forced a bored tone into her voice, but inside, her mind was churning. The girl did had spunk and pride, maybe there's another Isabelle around now? And what was this Clary like?

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for such a short chapter! I am so sorry for not updating, but life has been busy. Since it's spring break now, I'm hoping to post longer chapters and regularly… maybe every other Monday? And don't forget to drop a review? Pretty please? ;)**

 **If anyone of you guys want to see any personal requests or questions about this story, pm me. I'd love to make some friends or at least talk to some of you.**


	3. Fall: II

**A Pound of Feathers Chapter 3**

 **A/N Okay, I am super sorry for not updating in forever. I really tried writing once a week but I soon gave up, sadly. I don't know why but I never really found, or made, the time to update, and writing soon became a lost thought in the end-of-the-school-year buzz. Then, right after finals, I was whisked away on a trip, a very nice one, where I again didn't have the time or will to write. But now I'm free, and I'm going to (try) to write daily, or at least update APOF weekly. And every other week I'll try to update my abandoned oneshots, Point, Pirouette, and Plie and The Girl Who Floated From the Sea.**

 **Thanks for reading my pathetic excuse note, and let's begin to (finally) begin A Pound of Feathers chapter 3!**

* * *

The sky was a cold, clear blue, and the air nipped her nose; it was the type of autumn weather that you would see only in movies or if you had really good luck. Isabelle leaned stiffly against the wall and slowly lit a cigarette, she should really quit.

The glowing end in her cupped hands warmed them, and, despite the sweater weather, Isabelle felt a spark of warmth. She lifted the cigarette to her red lips and breathed deeply, feeling a calm wash over her. She relaxed against the wall and thought about today's arbitrary events.

 _Isabelle slammed her locker, the metal vibrating. She smirked at the beaten-up metal, at least_ someone _was having a worse day than her, even if that someone was an old piece of beaten metal._

 _Everyone just seemed so fucking happy, it made her head hurt. Everyone was soso happy greeting others and smiling at teachers and prancing through the halls like everyone was in fucking Disneyland. Even Camille, who hated everything, was smiling without an ounce of sarcasm or challenge._

 _Everyone except Isabelle._

 _Isabelle was strolling through the halls when she stumbled upon a interesting, more like devastating, sight. A mop of silky black hair was entangled with a tanned hand, and a skinny, wiry body pressed up against a tanned, muscular one, and they kept of pressing against each other, it was sickening._

 _And the tanned body turned its face, and Isabelle gasped. The green eyes briefly met with hers, and she_ knew _. Meliorn, who she had recently broken up with, was making out with Aline Penhallow. Something in Isabelle stirred and rage flared up in her body._ That stupid bitch! Couldn't she keep her hands off him?!

 _Without thinking, Isabelle turned on her heels and walked, more like ran, away from them._

And Isabelle still didn't know why she felt betrayed, it was as if someone pricked her arms with a needle and then rubbed in salt, at first it didn't hurt badly but hours later, it did. It hurt really badly.

But she doesn't _care_ about Meliorn, she was the one who broke up with _him_. Who swallowed the tears and heartbreak and sadness, and locked that up in a tight, tight place. She _shouldn't_ care about him. [Then why does her heart burn?]

She's Isabelle fucking Lightwood, and she breaks hearts and dreams and walks over people with her 7-inch heels.

She needs a distraction.

…

Isabelle really hated awkward silences, they didn't make sense. Why bite your tongue when you're going to say something, especially during a period of complete, blank, annoying silence. It just didn't add up, but, thus saying, Isabelle didn't experience many awkward silences in her life, ten to be exact.

But she never had to deal with Jace spilling opinions on the new girl, Clary.

"I'm just saying, Alec, she is pretty hot," Jace stabbed a cube on meat on his plate. The lunchroom buzzed with activity, students gossiping, friends arguing, and a few couples making out, to her disgust. Today's lunch, steak with tossed salad, adorned many people's plate, but others, Isabelle included, perfered the La Carte options to the heavier options.

Alec glanced over to the red-head who sat at Maia's table with Simon, Jordan, and a couple other students. "Yeah, I guess she's _okay_ –"

"But look at her, that hair, the smile, the glowing green eyes–" Jace rambled on, and Alec's eyes darted over to the girl, but they lingered behind her, at the "different" table with a yellow-eyed boy. Isabelle could practically feel Alec's nervousness and confusion; she knew he didn't like girls, was gay, but she frankly didn't care. She would love him always.

"She's just not my type," Alec butted in and sighed. "She's pretty, Jace, but you're beginning to sound obsessed. Just sleep with her and be done with it."

Shock struck Isabelle. Alec was known for being witty and smart-mouthed, but he never insulted Jace, not in that tone. The exasperated, just-shut-up tone that Isabelle often used with her parents. Her eyes widen at his angry statement.

Jace gaped at Alec, his gold eyes boring holes into his skull. Alec himself seemed off put at his sudden outburst himself. No one could think of something to say, and a silence descended upon them, crushing Isabelle's ears.

Clanging dishes and chatty voices could be heard in the background, but it was as if time slowed down and honed in on the three of them. Everything outside of the table was turned down, and all Isabelle could hear was a crushing silence. She really wanted a cigarette.

Wordlessly, Isabelle nodded and, stacking her dishes, left the table, letting the tension play itself out, a thing she rarely does.

…

 _Buzz. Buzz._ Isabelle's phone vibrated in her pocket, and, flicking her cigarette into the bushes, she dug it out of her pocket.

 _here's ur list: jordan kyle, raphael santiago, luke garroway (have fun sleeping with teachers), matthew bloodbone, simon lewis any order. cam_

Isabelle rolled her eyes, of _course_ Camille would choose a looser and teacher on the list, but the other options weren't too bad, Jordan and Matthew were hot and Raphael may not be eye candy but he was fine.

But _Simon Lewis?_ He may have lost weight over the summer, but he was still nerdy and annoying, and a looser.

Isabelle sighed. _Oh well, better start with the worst first and save the best for last. Watch out, Simon Lewis, because I'm coming for you._

…...

 **Well, I guess that's it! Feel free to drop a review and follow this story. Thanks for reading.**


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